Tamil Tiger Women Writing · was strongest within the Tamil Tiger movement compared to what existed before and what exists now in the Eelam Tamil society. It is also important to

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Translated by N Malathy

Tamil Tiger Women Writing

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Contents Tamil Tiger Women Writing .................................................... 1

Introduction ............................................................................... 3

I will wait … ............................................................................. 7

Koolam ...................................................................................... 8

My pen…! ................................................................................. 9

My unwritten poem… ............................................................. 11

Oh Freedom…......................................................................... 13

Oh the UN … .......................................................................... 14

Rise up for the new dawn ........................................................ 16

We want beautiful minds ........................................................ 17

The world is yours…............................................................... 19

Whisper in their ears ............................................................... 21

You – Night – Us .................................................................... 22

A cup of tea ............................................................................. 23

Channel-4 ................................................................................ 28

Fire within ............................................................................... 33

How far would you go? ........................................................... 45

My doors are open…............................................................... 49

New stories for our times ........................................................ 51

Paakkiam amma ...................................................................... 59

What price ............................................................................... 73

Search for the Tiger’s tail........................................................ 82

Into public space ..................................................................... 88

Stats ......................................................................................... 94

Bibliography............................................................................ 97

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Introduction

Women have partaken in large numbers in various armed

struggles around the world for about 40-50 years. Invariably

women have joined these armed struggles a few years after the

armed group had been formed and the struggle had been waged

by the males. Women’s emancipation is often promoted by

such groups. One reason, of course, is to increase female

recruits which some emphasise is the main reason. They also

insist that whatever women gain during such participation in

the armed struggle is gradually lost once the armed struggle

comes to end, even if it is a successful end. In the case of the

Tamil Tiger armed movement the end is alleged to be

genocide; thus the gains that were made by women is lost

forever. That is how most people would perceive this end.

Does it have to be lost?

The overarching Tamil narrative on the Tamil Tiger women is

military focused. Masked by this military focused Tamil Tiger

narrative is a narrative on women empowerment. This narrative

was strongest within the Tamil Tiger movement compared to

what existed before and what exists now in the Eelam Tamil

society. It is also important to acknowledge that it will take

several decades, if at all, to achieve what was achieved with

respect to women within the Tamil Tiger run Tamil Eelam

defacto-state which is now destroyed. This alone is a good

reason to draw out from the writings of Tamil Tiger women

that what is relevant to contemporary times. This is the aim of

this work.

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A selected writings in the form of poetry and short story that

are inspirational for contemporary women are included here.

All the poetry appear first followed by the short stories. This

selection is deemed to convey five major themes which when

internalised by women can be inspirational for social justice

struggles. These five themes convey narratives on: 1) the feats

of the women and the price they paid; 2) the hurdles they

acknowledge in their struggle; 3) the positive societal outcomes

of their struggle; 4) the fire within which took them to those

heights and above all 5) the call to rise up for social justice

struggles.

Kasthoori’s poem “Oh Freedom” and the Malaimahal’s story,

“What price” convey the pride in achievements and the price

they paid. Kasthoori laments the high price paid by Eelam

Tamils and how it has gone so cheap elsewhere. Malaimahal

also underscores the huge price they have paid in the struggle.

Three poems, “Oh the UN”, “My pen”, “You-night-us” and the

story “My doors are open” all speak of the different hurdles

Eelam Tamil women face. Barathy identifies the UN and

compares it to both a hen trying its best to protect vultures and

an ostrich hiding behind catch phrases. Vaanathi in her poem

“My pen” challenges those who again use empty words to

decry the struggle for social justice. Nila’s poem “You-night-

us” takes on male chauvnism, be it very mildly. Malaimahal in

her story, “My doors are open” is more forthright in

challenging historical as well as contemporary male

chauvnism.

The positive achievements of these women are expressed

mainly through the short stories they have penned. In the

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stories of Malaimahal as well as the two stories by Ampuli and

Vettichchelvi one can sense the free and joyful interactions of

women on battle fields. Vettichchelvi probably unintentionally

shows how this has permeated the Vanni civlian women even

post-2009.

Ampuli’s “Fire within” attempts to tell the readers the burning

desire of pooraalis to win freedom and also reiterates the huge

price they are paying for it. Kasthoori’s “Paakiam amma” also

brings to us the fire that was burning even within civilian

women like Paakiam.

Finally many of the poems is a call to rise up for that freedom.

There is a legend popular in the Vanni about a woman named

Ariyaaththai who tamed an elephant that all the men failed to

tame. Ariyaaththai was found dead the day after her feat. Her

story is cited even today as a source for inspiration. Her feat,

the price she paid and her name still used to kindle fire within.

Even more impressive than Ariyaaththai’s story are these

selected writings of the Tamil Tiger women convey.

At the end of this anthology additional translated writings of

Tamil Tiger women relating strictly war time emotions are also

included. These include a few more poetry and two more short

stories. Also included are three excerpts from the history

document, “Viluthaaki Veerumaaki”, about the largest

women’s military regiment of the Tamil Tigers – Malathi

Regiment.

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Three further sections at the end are written by the translator of

the anthology. The first of these sections describe the

historical process through which Eelam Tamil women entered

the public space leading to their participation in the armed

struggle. The second section is statistical data on the Eelam

Tamil women who carried arms. The last section is a

comprehensive bibliography of works by Eelam Tamil women

who either carried arms or who have worked closely with

them.

The following Tamil words are used in this text:

Maaveerar(s) -refers to Tamil Tiger member(s) killed in

battle; means Great Hero.

Pooraali(s) -Refers to living Tamil Tiger member(s),

meaning warrior or fighter for justice;

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I will wait …

by Samarvili (“Kaaththiruppu” in “Velichcham” Pearl Issue

marking 25 years of publication, 2001. Note: Kin in this poem

refers to fellow comrades.)

Midnight…

Vultures surrounded the village.

Dozing villagers sacrificed to demon.

My eyes blinded in anger.

A silent war within me.

Have I not been called a terrorist?

Do I not have Tamil Eelam blood?

I joined the list of the disappeared.

My name in hand-cuff

Together with our departed kin

I will wait for the freedom .

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Koolam

by Ko. Si Kalaikkathir (“Koolam” in “Velicham” Pearl Issue

marking 25 years of publication, 2001. Note: Koolam is the

design women make every morning on the ground in front of

their homes with flour)

Amma handed the tradition of making koolam.

She loved watching amma making koolam.

As she got older , when she felt shy

She made koolam with her big toe.

When time came for her to make koolam

There were termite mounds in her yard.

Her hands picked up the spade and

There are no more termite mounds.

Her blood had made koolam in her yard.

An enduring koolam that will not be erased.

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My pen…!

by Vaanathi (“Enathu peenaa” in ”Vaanathiyin Kavithaikal”,

LTTE Publication Division, 1992)

My pen is sharp like the gun in my hand.

My gun spits only bullets.

My pen will spit everything.

My poems are disallowed in competitions

But where our feelings are disrespected

My pen will enter without permission.

My poems rejoice not the flatter

Since it had received the top adulation.

My pen will challenge any expert

My pen has emotions that are alive.

An appeal to those pens that deride our feelings

Reveal your identity so my pen can rip your mask.

My pen is sharp like the gun in my hand,

My gun only aims at the enemy but

My pen will aim at everything.

My pen’s thoughts of past

Are the events of the present.

My pen’s thoughts of present

Are the events of the future.

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Do you not understand?

Do you not understand my poetry?

This is not a victory for me

This is not a victory for my poem

These are victories of my pen.

My hands may rest or be destroyed

My pen will never rest just like our guns.

My pen is sharper than the guns in my hand.

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My unwritten poem…

by Vaanathi (“Eluthaatha en kavithai” in “Vaanathiyin

Kavithaikal”, LTTE Publication Division, 1992)

(This was Vaanathi’s last poem written just before she was

killed in the attack on the Elephant Pass on 15th

July 1991.)

Write my unwritten poem

That is my plea to you.

So many thoughts…

But I cannot come since

My gun is at the boarder

So write my unwritten poem

That is my plea to you.

Behind my fuming gun

My body may be crushed

My emotions will remain

Making you reflect, then

Write my unwritten poem

That is my plea to you.

Memorials may rise in our name

In our liberated land,

Not for you to cry over

Nor for flowers and incense.

It is to strengthen your resolve.

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So…

Write my unwritten poem

That is my plea to you.

In my purposeful death

In the Tamil Eelam that rises

You will roam for certain.

Then…

My unwritten poem

Will stand before you.

Those…

Who knew me

Who understood me

Who embraced me

Who loved me

Look within my unwritten poem.

There…

You will find all the maaveerar

Smiling at you.

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Oh Freedom…

by Kasthoori (“Suthanthiramee” in “Kasthooriyin

Aakkangkal”, LTTE Publication Division, 1992)

We wanted to walk

Holding your hands

Ever present death

Has become cheap

Your price keeps going up

Elsewhere you go cheap

We paid by heaps – but

We only get bullets

To the bullets we say

You cannot swallow freedom

You cannot put out that fire – so

Leave the brave souls

And surrender to the

Enemies of humanity

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Oh the UN …

by Barathy (“Ainaa sapaiyee” in “Kaathoodu Sollividu”,

Publication Section – LTTE Women’s Division, 1993)

The tall buildings of UN

Stands strong and high

On the strength of human bones

Its colourful flags flutter – like

Countless lives it swallowed

You talk betterment of life

But look down under the red carpet

Human bodies wriggle like worms

Portends your blinded eyes to open

Hen protects its young

But you protect the vultures

Bloated with lives of the poor

The vultures belly peaks out

Unable to hide under your wings

Like an ostrich hiding its head

You hide behind ” world peace”

Your face is not visible

But your body is so naked.

You claim the right to declare

The rights of all humans

Our people, our rights, we declare

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When our strength grows – with

Our skill and dedication

You will come to set things “right”

We will then teach you

Our experience of freedom

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Rise up for the new dawn

by Barathy (“Vidivitkaai eluvoom” in “Kaathoodu Sollividu”,

Publication Section – LTTE Women’s Division, 1993)

Early dawn awaits round the corner

Bird songs welcome the new dawn

Trees come alive shaking off dew

Dry bushes too look afresh

Sound of explosions nearby

Bombs eager to embrace us.

Comrade next to me – her hand

That held the gun falls still

Her blood paints new picture on the soil

The young daughter’s lifeless body

Fills our fiery eyes with tears

Her gun now blasts in another hand

Our pace goes up

The explosions still heard afar.

The land is silent

Grieving for her young daughter

Crushed trees, wingless birds

And the burning bushes

Stand up straight with their injuries

Their marks of freedom struggle.

On the soil muddied by blood

Our feet speed towards the goal

Memory filled eyes await

The next dawn.

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We want beautiful minds

by Ampuli (“Alagiya manakal vendum” in “Erimalai” issue of

June 2004)

We want minds more than people

Because we know the power of minds.

What cannot be achieved

By training or numeric strength

The power of the mind has.

In our time we have seen many,

Whom we thought would

Shrink away limbless and armless,

Spread their wings with power of mind.

Therefore, we want such beautiful minds.

More than a luscious green garden

More than the stream that runs through

More than the rainbow in the sky

More than a beautiful face

We want those beautiful minds.

To nurture empathy

To sculptor the nation

To strip the falsity

To bury the differences

We want beautiful minds.

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Drilled by bombs

Shattered to pieces

Overgrown with weeds

Burnt into empty spaces

Filled with headless trees

To beautify this homeland

We want such beautiful minds.

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The world is yours…

by Thamilaval (“Vaiyakam Vasappadum…” in “Velichcham”

Issue marking 25 years of publication, 2001)

Living stretches, empty and long

Kitchen smoke, taste of food

And the man’s welfare - these

Determines or is it cursed as living.

The competence to send roots

To seek water in the rocks is wasted

As sandy surface roots of

Skyward looking colourful plants

Woman;

All that competence to achieve

Why this tragedy? whose deception?

Asphyxiating masks of

Daughter, wife and mother,

The longings to throw the masks

Supressed into the unconscious.

Enough is enough - these staged façade

It is not wrong for woman to be woman.

Be not satisfied with the breeze

That comes through the window.

Learn the feat of breaking the lock.

Open the door and possess all.

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Thinking freely and loving freedom

These are not crimes to fear.

Think yourself, love yourself.

The world should be yours.

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Whisper in their ears

by Barathy (“Kaathoodu sollividu” in “Kaathoodu

Sollividu”, Publication Section – LTTE Women’s Division,

1993. Note: This poem is about the black tigers of the

movement)

Another explosion

Tore away from gravity

Sliced through the cosmos

Light waves ahead of sound waves

Elucidate that brightness to the stars.

In the heat of their last breadth

Of those unique souls

Destroying the destructive ship

The ocean heaved once more.

Keep looking sons and daughters

The footprints of freedom sculptors

The true allies of humanity

You will find them here.

Let the interpreters on this globe

Interpret their heart.

Let the researchers on this globe

Research their dedication.

Oh, the waves that kissed them last

When you touch the shores

Whisper in the ears of our people

When freedom is won they will be back.

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You – Night – Us

by Nila (“Neenkalum Iravum Naankalum” in “Suthanthira

Paravaikal” Issue, Oct-Nov 2002)

Your hands would stretch to stop us speeding.

“Can we come too brother?” you would say.

We would speed without words.

If we had forgotten to dim the lights

You would scold in the gendered tone.

A sad smile would come over us.

Oh brothers, we are your sisters.

We fired artilleries non-stop

From stationary launchers.

Then we drove moving launchers

Chasing the escaping enemies.

How then do you decide that

All who drive at night are males?

Throw away your foolish assumptions

And observe the coming changes.

Tomorrow your big sister may drive a Hiace van.

Your little sister may pilot a plane.

Your niece may become the naval commander.

Your daughter may drive the heavy vehicles

To renovate the Tamil Eelam roads.

Hope you would live to see your granddaughter

Roll along this struggling world with one hand.

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A cup of tea

by Malaimahal

(“Oru kooppai theeniir” in “Velichcham” issue of Dec 1999,

republished in “Malaimahal Kathaikal”, Capt Vaanathi

Publishers-LTTE Women’s Division. Note: Pittu is a

carbohydrate food made of flour.)

Pittu and curry for breakfast, rice and curry for lunch, pittu and

curry for dinner. That is ok. Then pittu and curry for breakfast,

rice and curry for lunch and dinner. That is also not too bad. A

few days later, rice and curry for all three meals. That too, rice

and eggplant curry for breakfast, eggplant curry and rice for

lunch, and rice and eggplant curry for dinner. The dinner and

lunch meals delivered together. A few more days later, rice

water for breakfast, eggplant curry and rice for lunch and

dinner.

Cursing those who grew eggplant we swallowed our food. Our

taste buds were given compulsory rest. Having reached a

detached state with respect to food, we were gratified with one

cup of tea. Our attention was focused on the military in front.

“It is because of you we are in this situation. Wait a while. We

will also return to our old state because of you.”, we groaned to

ourselves. Anger swelling within we immersed in our duties.

Because of our friendship with eggplant curry, the food parcels

hung on the tree branches above us. If we look up, it brings

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anger and sadness. Sadness because we could not bring

ourselves to throw the food while our people were starving

without even one meal a day. We did not have the heart to bury

all that food. Our stomachs could not let go of it either.

While looking up at the food parcel a bright idea occurred. Is it

not how Isaac Newton also had a bright idea. He looked at the

falling apple and discovered gravity. We are like that too.

Once a bright idea is hatched, the next step is to put it into

action. We took the cleanest of the bags that were given to us

to strengthen our security posts as sandbags. We washed the

bag clean and spread it under the sun. We spread the cooked

rice on it and allowed it to dry. We roasted this in the pot we

use to make tea and crushed it into finer bits in the same pot.

We did the same to the pittu that arrived on rare occasions.

If we put a handful of it in the mouth. The crunchy rice tasted

delicious. The evening snack is now ready. What evening

snack? Whenever we felt hungry a handful of this and a cup of

tea will fill our stomachs.

We did not waste even a single grain of the cooked rice. The

plan to convert left over rice into snack was implemented

across all our security posts at the frontline. With the energy

obtained from a plate of this rice powder and a cup tea, one can

dig a one and a half feet trench in one hour. It does not matter

if those in Colombo embargoed food coming to us. We had

created the situation where we will not be affected by these

embargoes.

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As the food shortages worsened outside, the sugar ration was

reduced. We could not have tea with sugar. We started licking

the sugar while we drank the tea, when this was also difficult

we mixed the rice powder with sugar and licked that while we

drank tea. The rice powder which started as an accompaniment

for tea became one of its raw material.

During different seasons of forest fruits, we made fruit syrups

with these fruits and drank our favourite tea with this. With the

highs we got with the cups of tea and the strength we got from

rice water and eggplant curry we focused on our duties.

The people of the civilian based border unit that took over

some of the security posts nearby were shocked to see the type

of food we were living on.

“Children! is this the food you eat and fight like this?”, they

were aghast. They shared with us the toffees they had brought

with them to eat in between meals. We thanked them and put

the toffees in our pant pockets. We did this once or twice. They

must have been intrigued by our action. They could not resist

asking.

“Why are you putting it in the pocket. Eat it now. We will give

more to take it to your people.” We could not stop laughing.

“We drink our tea with this because we do not have any sugar”,

we told them.

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“How can you drink a cup of tea with four or five tiny toffees.

How many toffees do you need to drink a cup of tea?” they

asked.

They were dumbfounded by our reply, “We can drink tea four

or five times with one toffee”.

The thought of the many girls out of their sights, facing

hardships and fighting at the frontline, like these girls here,

must have moved them. They handed over to us all the sweets,

snacks and biscuits they had brought with them and said with

tears in their eyes,

“We are here just for a week. When we get back home we can

eat. You must eat these things”.

For a few days it was lucky stars for us. With different varieties

of snacks our tea time was like a festival.

Implementing our leader’s plans our teams kept moving

forward, Oddusuddan, Nedunkerni, Karippaddamurippu,

Olumadu, Mankulam, Kanakarayankulam… All along where

the enemy had vacated, there were what he had left behind:

footwear, raincoats, belts, cheese tins, packaged date cakes,

burnt curries on the stoves, plates on the table served with high

quality food items, fridge stacked with green vegetables,

skinned chickens, pricy liquor, fizzy drinks….

We followed chasing the enemy. We drank the fizzy drinks and

washed our face with it. We took a mouthful of the food on the

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plates, we ran behind the enemy not having the time to wash

our hands.

The rice water drinking Tigers chased. The lions fed on cheese

and meat ran – drove away in their vehicles leaving everything

behind all the way back to Omanthai.

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Channel-4

by Vettichchielvi (“Chanal 4” in “Kaanaamal Poonavanin

Manaivi” short story collection, Chozhan Padaippagam, 2012,

India )

Muhuntha had no inclination to watch the Channel-4

documentary. Are there going to be anything in it that she does

not know already, that she has not seen or that she has not

heard about. Though three years had passed after claiming that

the war is over, the scenes of death she had seen have stayed

on. They are permanently registered in the brain to torment the

souls forever, even after death. She wanted to forget. At least

for a few days she would like to experience a restfulness. That

is what she wants but can she?

Nimalan’s voice sounds agitated and demanding on the phone,

“I know you don’t like to watch these things, Muhuntha. But

please see it once. Our Aruna’s brother is there. Please watch it

once for Aruna’s sake.”

Aruna, their friend, is one of five children to her parents.

Maran is her only brother and he had joined the movement. He

was among those considered “disappeared” at the end of the

war. Has he now “displaced” with those who are “dead”. Will

Maran’s family bear this truth? No it won’t. That family

survives by praying daily for his existence if not for his return

to the family. They have faith that he is alive somewhere. It is

such faith that helps these families deal with grief.

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Muhuntha gave up her stubborn refusal to watch the Channel-4

documentary. She put her shoulder bag on and ran to the

nearby internet shop. She tapped on the keyboard and the

Channel-4 scenes played before her eyes. The same smell of

blood pierced her nose. Pain pricked her heart like a thousand

thorns. The scenes she resisted to even think about was

presenting itself in front of her eyes. She put her head in her

hands and began searching for Maran.

There Maran! Yes, it is Maran. Brother of her dearest friend

Aruna. The video scenes were announcing that Maran was not

only dead but also how he was killed.

Muhuntha quickly closed the page showing the video. She felt

dizzy. She sat down again and put her head in her hands. Her

heart ran to Aruna. It cried with Aruna on Aruna’s shoulders. It

consoled Aruna’s mother. Her heart made everyone in that

family’s village to come to the family’s home to cry for Maran.

It made the family serve a meal to the village to end the

grieving period. Her heart told Maran’s mother the

confirmation of his death and pleaded with her to stop the

search.

Muhuntha got up, paid at the counter and came out.

She called Nimalan, “It is Maran.”

“See I told you. He looks just like Aruna. That is how I

guessed. Muhuntha, how are you going to tell this to Aruna?”

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“I have to tell her. I am going to their place straightaway. I will

talk to you later.”

“Ok. If I could, I would come too.” Nimalan who was made a

quadriplegic in the war shows concern for everyone else as if

he has channeled all the lost feelings in his body to his heart.

“Yes, I know. Talk to you later”, said Muhuntha

Muhuntha came home, stuffed a change of clothes in her bag.

“I am going to Maran’s house. I will come back only

tomorrow”, she told her cousin. There was no response from

her cousin. Muhuntha knows that her cousin will be grumbling,

but she was in no mood to be concerned about it. Muhuntha,

having lost all her family in the war has sought shelter with her

cousin.

Muhuntha hurried to the road and caught the bus to

Kilinochchi. Perspiration on her forehead was running down

the side of her face. She wiped it off with the back of her hands

and tried to keep calm.

After traveling for a few hours she got off at the Kilinochchi

bus stand. She caught a three-wheeler and arrived at Maran’s

house. People there were delighted to see her and the welcome

was warm.

“Why didn’t you call before coming”, scolded Aruna holding

Muhuntha’s hand. She playfully punched Muhuntha’s shoulder

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with her other fist. Muhuntha gave a shout that brought

Aruna’s mother from the kitchen.

“Welcome child. How come you have come without

informing” said Aruna’s mother giving Muhuntha a kiss.

“I felt like it so I came. Should I not come without

informing?”, Muhuntha tried to smile, controlling her tears.

“What is the matter? Did you have a fight with your cousin?”

Aruna’s query made Muhuntha angry.

“Will you be quiet” said irritated Muhuntha.

Aruna’s mother also joined in querying Muhuntha’s situation.

Muhuntha controlled herself.

“No, no nothing. The traveling had given me a headache” said

Muhuntha putting her hand on her forehead.

She could not bring herself to tell them that she came to inform

them of Maran’s death. She could not imagine the tears and

cries that will pervade this family which now appears to be in a

state of settled calm,

“Get up. Go and wash your face first”, ordered Aruna. Then

Aruna told her mother to make a hot cup of tea for Muhuntha.

Muhuntha held Aruna’s hand tight.

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“What is it Muhuntha?”, queried her concerned friend. Yet,

there was a happy smile on her face. The days when she cried

endlessly for her disappeared brother had passed. She has just

regained that smile on her face. Should this smile be wiped out

again?

“Just not feeling right?” said Muhuntha, trying to smile.

“Give away five of those heavy burdens you are carrying, give

one to me and just keep one” joked Aruna and laughed

uncontrollably.

Muhuntha just could not think of bringing sorrow back into her

friend’s face. She played along. Throwing her arms open she

demanded “Carry me to the well”. That was her attempt to hide

her state of mind.

Aruna picked up her friend like a bundle and carried her to the

well. Aruna’s two sisters who were sitting under a tree near the

well burst out laughing seeing the antics of the two grown up

friends.

Why should Muhuntha dampen this laughter, yet again?

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Fire within

by Ampuli (“Ullee eriyum thee” in “Vali” short story

collection, Capt Vaanathi Publication – LTTE Women’s

Division, 2005)

Translator’s note

In late 1995, Lankan military launched the operation which

was code named “Sun rays” (Riveresa in Sinhala and

Sooriyakathir in Tamil) to recapture Jaffna peninsula which

was mostly under the Tigers control at that time. The battles

mentioned in this short story indirectly describes how the

Tigers gradually lost the south-west parts of the Jaffna

peninsula. The Tigers eventually withdrew completely from

Jaffna peninsula. This short story is set during these battles.

The story shows that the author has had first hand knowledge

of these battles.

For those readers who may have difficulties distinguishing the

male and female names, all the names in this story are female

names except the following, Kannan, Ranjan, and Hari. Some

of the Colonel level male military leaders who are mentioned

here are Banu annai and Balraj annai – annai being the term

for older brother and also used as a term of endearment.

Similarly the Colonel level female military leader Vithusha

mentioned here is post fixed with acca meaning older sister

and also used as a term of endearment.

***

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Artillery shells were coming non stop. The military had

stationed all sizes of cannons and were firing towards the

Tigers side.

Neela was carefully listening to recognize the noise of the shell

leaving the firing barrel. For each such firing sound she

lowered her head into the trench. The shells fell all around

them, in front of her, past her, and on her side. The exploding

shells dug into the Urumpiraai red soil and threw red mud all

around. The trench was muddy after the rain and her team had

spread the large banana leaves on top of the mud and were

sitting on it. Her team, the “carrier team”, was observing the

situation. The carrier teams are responsible for, carrying away

the injured and the dead, distributing food to the frontline

pooraalis and carrying ammunition to the frontline.

“Keep your heads down in the trench” said their leader,

Sobana, and she ran around making sure everyone was safe and

then lowered herself in one trench. She awaited for a message

on her walkie.

Neela, Kalai and ten others had been just sent to the spot to

replace the losses in the defensive battle to stop the military

advancing towards Urumpirai. Because they had been with

other frontline battle teams for some time they had been now

placed with a carrier team.

Within three days of their arrival the battle had intensified and

thus the non-stop artillery shells.

35

“You there, lower your head ”, Neela scolded Kalai just in time

as a shell landed very close to them.

“Lucky that it did not explode. Or else it is either you or me”.

Kalai laughed as Sobana’s walkie came alive.

“Send two people with a stretcher to Ramani’s position. Run

and be careful”.

“As if they were waiting for Sobana’s orders, Neela and Kalai

jumped out of their trench, picked up the stretcher and began

running one behind the other towards Ramani’s position, two

hundred metres away.

Noise of tanks and armoured trucks could be heard very near.

Trees, broken by the exploding shells lay all around. Concrete

pieces from buildings were scattered everywhere. They ran

along footpaths and jumped over coconut leaf fences. Neela’s

rubber jandals kept getting stuck in the mud. She left one and

ran with one jandal.

The legs hurt with the bruises made by the stones on the street

and the scratches caused by the thorns of the broken branches

that were strewn around. Ramani’s position was a heavy

weapon mortar position. Because this mortar fire was

supporting the Tiger side, the military artillery shells were

focusing in that direction. As Neela and Kalai were running

towards this position, the injured pooraalis from a team further

36

at the frontline were being carried away by another carrier team

pooraalis.

At the mortar position Kokila’s body lay in ruin. Blood running

from her head made her entire head look red. The smell of

blood pierced Neela’s nose. Neela and Kalai bent over and

arranged her body. The body was in such a state that they could

not just lift it.

Neela untied the green batik sarong that was tied around her

waist in preparation for battles. They put Kokila’s body in it

and tied it up. They placed the body on the stretcher and raised

the stretcher to their shoulders. Their legs started running. They

ran past the medical unit behind the frontline and ran a further

half a kilometre down the path used by the vehicles. They put

Kokila in the vehicle and ran further to collect another

stretcher.

That day they had carried six or seven injured. When they

attempted to return to their original position, they found that

the position was moving backward. The forward defense lines

had been breached by the military. Many at the frontline were

either killed or injured and had been sent back. The remaining

few had been ordered to move back their positions. The

tiredness from a day of heavy battle weighed down on the

pooraalis. Before they had time to think about the dead and the

injured, their duty with spades and guns awaited them.

Kalai and Neela were not injured despite the many shell

explosions near them as they carried the injured. Two others

37

from their team who were injured had been sent to the medical

unit behind the frontline.

The battle that started at 6.00am that morning did not cease till

dusk. There was no time even to drink water. Now they must

await for the next delivery of food and distribute it to the

frontline teams. It will be 10.00pm at night by then. No rest

even at night. Their legs covered in bruises were hurting. That

pain is not noticeable now. Tomorrow morning it will be

difficult to raise the legs. These thoughts ran through Neela’s

mind. She had borrowed a jandal from one of the injured

pooraali.

Radha was drawing water from a well nearby. Neela and Kalai

filled themselves up to their throat with water. Hunger was

neither there nor not there. They had no urge to eat. The smell

of blood was still inside their noses. The blood had dried up on

their hands. Their clothes also had blood stains everywhere.

The sky was fully dark now. Military was firing their night

time long distance artillery. It tore through the silence of the

night, passing them and landing somewhere past the Kopay

junction.

Sobana gathered everyone and was handing out the spades for

digging trenches at the new positions.

“Mm.. it will be another four or five days before he makes

another move. Have to keep digging till then” said Kalai.

38

Under the cover of thick darkness their team continued with the

task.

Next morning the teams were brought together. The numbers

were replaced and new teams were formed. Neela was given

nine new people, a walkie and a gun. Kalai had been put into a

fighting team.

Their leader announcing the new teams continued, “Do not

start asking that you want to be there or here. All of you are at

the frontline fighting. Everyone will get chance to fight. All

jobs have equal value at the frontline”.

The long days together with Kalai earlier and at the battle line

the day before had now come to an end. No more frequent

contacts with each other. No more loud laughter together even

before the smoke from the shell explosion had subsided. No

more listening together to the reprimands from the leader.

Neela was feeling the separation. Will she see Kalai alive

again? The heart ached. She may even end up carrying the

injured Kalai or even her dead body. Neela was disturbed by

these thoughts more than the battle situation they were in.

Neela now had the responsibility to guide the new pooraalis

under her. Everyone was occupied with the tasks involved in

breaking the next move by the military. Taking safety from the

frequent roaring of bombers from the sky they came together

again and continued with the tasks. Kannan guided the carrier

teams of Raji, Sabari and Neela to various teams stationed in

39

the area. Neela’s team was following last and Neela was at the

end of the line.

“This is Ranjan’s section. On the other side of the bush is

Murali’s”, Kannan was explaining.

In battle they would have to carry the dead and injured men

and women. How many of the pooraalis here will be there at

the end of the next battle?

They were at the last post of Murali’s section. Neela’s eyes

caught the eyes of one digging the trenches. He had just

straightened after throwing the soil on the spade. The legs

refused to move. His eyes were fixed by hers. The teams were

moving. Yoga who was in front of her had crossed over to the

next yard. This is not the time to talk. She cannot talk. She

moved fast to join her team. Her mind was still going around

him.

Hari. How did he end up here? Was he not under a different

division in the north of Jaffna peninsula. Like Neela, the

Sooriyakathir battle must have brought him also here. She

would now be so consumed with that sight.

Those days she could see him at her home four or five times in

a day. She could talk. They were neighbours and they were in

love. On the battleground they had been separated. Hari is eight

years older than Neela. He went to join the movement in 1990

after informing her and she followed immediately after. In

40

between they had stopped seeing each other though their love

was recorded in the Tigers bio-data of the members.

They met once when both had gone home on a break following

battle injuries.

She may have to carry him too like how she may have to carry

Kalai. Death and injury had become natural in this struggle. It

did not scare her. Would she know whether he is alive or dead

at the end of the battle? It was hard for Neela to live with this

possibility of unknowing.

The teams moving with Kannan to identify sections had now

reached the Koondavil depot junction.

***

The battle for Jaffna town was drawing near. The military was

moving in an L shape from Ariyaalai and the battle with the

Tigers in town had started. The military was firing from Palaali

in the northern parts of the Jaffna peninsula, Kolumbuthurai

and also from Mandaitheevu. Tigers were in the middle

surrounded by the military. It was the peak of the Sooriyakathir

battle.

Neela’s team was under a tamarind tree.

“For now, the food is only for us at the battle lines and the

injured” that was Savithri as she distributed the food in

shopping bags. Thought of people struggling for food after

41

running away from their farms came to mind. But the mind

refused to dwell on the dire situation of the people and the

pooraalis among them.

“Given that it is far better that we are here”.

Neela took the bread from the shopping bag and made a well in

the middle. She poured the gravy in the smaller bag into the

well and dipped the bread and started to eat. The life that was

drained off from the body due to hunger and tiredness came

and stuck back. That is how it felt.

“ What delicious food”.

Even in this intense battle line the rice soup or the bread that

they got once a day tasted heavenly. Only the hungry taste buds

know the true taste of food. Before they could finish the food

Kajani came running,

“ Everyone is asked to come to the St Johns College grounds

for line up” and she ran away.

Halfway through their food everyone hastily got ready. Neela

checked out everyone.

“Thamilarasi, you come to the front. You won’t run fast”.

Letting the short and plump Thamilarasi in the front and letting

the others run in a line she joined at the end of it.

42

Male and female pooraalis from the other streets were also

running in line to the school grounds.

“Must be some attack plan”, she thought.

Just before reaching the school entrance, she saw in the

opposite side, a moving line of male pooraalis. Among them

the tight faced Hari wearing the same checked green shirt.

Before their eyes could meet and acknowledge the other, the

lines moved on. She was relieved. He is alive. Even if she

cannot see him or talk to him that is enough for her.

Everyone went under the Vaahai tree and sat in lines. Banu

annai, Balraj annai and Vithusha acca and all the other top

Tiger military leaders were busy with the plans for Ariyaalai

counteroffensive.

That evening faded away in taut tension.

***

Many of those who were on the battle lines with Neela in the

recent intense battles are no more. She saw Kalai once or twice

after their separation but nothing after that. Someone said she

was stationed near Kolumbuthurai. It was comforting to think

she is still alive.

The “para’ light of the military was lighting up the night sky.

The military at Mandaitheevu, Kolumbuthirai and Jaffna town

43

were all alternatively focusing their artillery towards

Paasaiyuur coast.

The military would have liked to boast that the Tigers were

either wiped out or had drowned in the sea. But pooraalis who

fought the military were safe in the five story building in

Kurunagar. The pooraalis minds refused to accept that they

must leave Valigaamam (The western part of the Jaffna

peninsular where the battles described in this story were being

fought). The RPG shells from Mandaitheevu were falling along

the coast.

The pooraalis boarded onto the Sea Tiger motor boats and they

were set down on East Ariyaalai coast. The boats continued

this transportation several times.

“Has Mathangi’s group arrived yet. Why has it not come?”

“They are coming”.

“Neela go and ask that group to hurry up”.

Few more minutes passed with checking.

“Visu ask your people to board”, a leader ordered.

The female pooraalis began boarding and Neela, Poomahal,

Vithusha acca and a few more boarded the last boat. The

howling of a pack of dogs that followed them fill the coastline.

The heart was unwilling to leave that coast and the five story

building.

44

The “para” light of Mandaitheevu military kept lighting up the

sky and then dying out. Hari would have left in one of the boats

that left this morning thought Neela.

Where would he be? Still in Valigaamam? Or somewhere else

in Jaffna? Or in the sky? He, who was mostly out of sight, only

occasionally came within sight and rarely came face to face for

a few minutes, would he be alive?

The rocking boat splashed the salty water on the back. He must

be alive in some corner thought her heart. Neela turned back

and looked at the coast. Shells were still exploding along the

coast. Carrying the pooraalis and their emotions that elude

words, the boats moved closer to the coast on the other side.

45

How far would you go?

by Malaimahal (“Ethuvarai” in “Velichcham” issue July-Aug

1999 – republished in “Malaimahal Kathaikal”, Capt

Vaanathi Publication – LTTE Women’s Division, 2004)

Everyone was busy working to shift the front line security

posts further to the front. These are loud mouth women even in

ordinary times. That day the noise and the frolicking had

increased many folds. The fence made of palmyra leaves was

growing high by the minute. They were running to the palmyra

groove nearby to cut young leaves and were using it to make

the fence. They did not bother to flatten the leaves first with

their feet. Surely, the military is not going to wait for us to take

the time to flatten the leaves. There was no rule as such on

what material can be used to raise the fence. Whatever they

could put their hands on went on the fence. The raincoats that

the military had discarded during the Unceasing Waves-02

operation, the corrugated iron sheets bent by falling artillery

which were then flattened by our ‘delicate’ fingers – all these

became material for the fence. To tie them together, broken

cables, strips of sarongs, and shoe-laces recovered from shoes

discarded by the military were being used. Together with these

material these active birds were building the fence at great

speed.

When someone ordered, “Hey, the sound is getting too much.

Quiet. He is going fire a shell”, the noise level will go down

and then gradually it will rise again. An experienced one

reprimanded them for their irresponsible conduct.

46

A younger one retorted back, “Why do you keep grumbling

like a ripping cloth”.

“Don’t talk like an idiot. You will know when a shell explodes

on your head”, came the reply.

Another one dropped the work she was doing and lay down on

the heap of soil created by those digging the trench. With her

legs crossed she suggested seriously, “OK, ok. We are tired.

Bring those meat rolls and tomato sauce. We will work after

we have eaten.”

The one standing near kicked her and said very irritated, “Why

the hell are you reminding us what is not there.”

The one who was in the trench digging dropped her spade and

climbed out saying, “Wait. I will put this one in the trench and

cover her.” She tried to roll her into the trench.

The one lying down twisted herself so that she landed in the

trench standing up and immediately climbed out and made

faces at the one who pushed her. A great chase followed.

Everyone dropped their work and cheered the two who were

chasing.

***

These moments in the life of frontline fighters are wonderful.

Outsiders will have difficulty in understanding their feelings.

Such noisy frolicking at the frontline will invariably be

47

followed with some of us being laid down on this land of ours.

A stone will then be raised. Then too our emotions are not easy

for others to understand. Loss of one of us would only make us

stronger. It will not make us fearful. We are able to bear the

loss of our family and friends whom we had known as far back

as we can remember. But we are unable to bear the loss of our

frontline comrades or the frontline fences bearing the memories

of our frontline comrades.

***

The noise that followed the chase was brought under control by

one voice. “Don’t make noise. The ground is going to crack.

Would you be frolicking like this if you were at home? You

would all be sitting quietly in a corner.” The reply from a rattle

came immediately, “That is why we have chosen to end up

here.” The laughter that followed this comment raised the noise

level again.

The two chasers came back holding hands after making peace.

“Let us start work” said one voice which was immediately

drowned by the one returning with food. “Dum dum dum…I

gave my tail and got a knife dum dum dum…I gave my knife

and got a gun dum dum dum…I gave my gun and got a

special…dum dum dum.”

The one with the food was making up a random song and was

dancing equally randomly. She had a shopping bag in her hand.

It was clear that after a long time we were going to eat some

48

snacks. Imagine the state of affairs among us who made such

frolics even when there was nothing to frolic about….

“See, I mentioned the rolls today and that is why there is

snacks”, boasted that one.

“I have heard a cock saying that the sun rises because he

crows”, teased another.

“Call the medics we have to stop the bleeding”, said one

creating real concern among some.

“She had given her tail to bring us snacks”. Everyone laughed

and looked inside the food bag.

One took a snack and put it in her mouth nodding

appreciatively. “Tasty. I could walk on my head for this” she

said and distributed the snacks to all.

“If you would walk on your head for one snack, does that mean

you would do anything for good food?”

“No” came the immediate response and everyone turned to her,

keen on hear what she was going to say.

“Our leader has placed great confidence in us. He knows that

we frolic and fool around. But he also knows that we are clever

and dedicated. He knows that he can trust us with any job. I

will not do anything to destroy that confidence. I do not like to

do anything that will affect his confidence in all of us.

49

My doors are open…

by Malaimahal (“Kathavukal thiranthuthaan ullana” in

“Sarinihar” issue of Oct 14-27, 1999 – republished in

“Malaimahal Kathaikal” Short Story Collection, Capt

Vaanathi Publication – LTTE Women’s Division, 2004)

I am sensing that over the generations my intelligence and my

competence are being denied. I have always been capable of

achieving anything to which I put my mind. I have always had

the leadership capabilities to manage large enterprises. Yet,

what I see in large numbers in front me, are people who refuse

to meet my intelligence with theirs but who try to control me

with the power given to them. The greatest regret I have is that

it is so hard to find people who are willing to respect my

intelligence and competence and understand my feelings. Ever

since the matriarchal societies were destroyed I have been

searching for such good people. I am yet to meet them.

The people I see either want to control me with their power or

try to restrict me with their protective love. When neither

succeeds they call me “uncontrollable” or “strange” and they

throw criticisms at me to blunt me. For a long time they had

this longing that I should be at least a step below them. They

could never acknowledge in front of others that I have wisdom.

They are greatly satisfied when they are able to show them off

as wise while I remain silent and pretend ignorance. When by

some chance it is revealed that women are capable, the outrage

they show is astounding. At such times if they could they

would kill me. How can I shake hands with them?

50

<follows a list of male characters in ancient Hindu literature

who failed to treat women with respect>

These people, who failed to defeat me with intelligence, who

disrespected my feelings , who cruelly stepped on me, now say

that they are giving their voice for my rights. That they are

going to pave the way for my freedom. They want me to follow

them? Big chance.

Get lost you mad man! I identified you from that day when you

shouted at me that my head will fall off when you could not

defeat me in debate. You do not determine my path. It will be

good if you do not jump and fall across my path. I know my

path. I am not pushing you away and say that we must always

travel in separate paths for ever. My path is not blocked for you

to travel.

Those people who understand my feelings, respect my skills,

and value my competence are always free to walk with me

along my path. If you are ready to walk hand in hand with me

you can come. If you want to tie my hands and drag me behind

you, then you must go in own your path. It has been a long

time since I spread my wings wide and flew. I am not ready to

be held in the cage even if it is made of gold. So many green

fields and lush trees and river banks and beaches are there for

me to come down and rest. Yet my doors are always open for

the arrival of the good people.

51

New stories for our times

by Malaimahal (“Puthiya kathaikal” in “Velichcham” issue

July-Aug 2002 – republished in “Malaimahal Kathaikal” Short

Story Collection, Capt Vaanathi Publication – LTTE Women’s

Division, 2004)

Translator’s note

In this story Malaimahal strings together a few milestones in

the history of women’s participation in the armed struggle.

These milestones she uses are separated in time by several

years. She uses it to highlight a new awakening among the

people.

Adampan battle in October 1986 was the first battle in which

female pooraalis took an active role.

According to the official Tamil Tiger narrative, Malathi was

the first female pooraali to die in battle in Oct 1987. In reality

Shoba of EPRLF – Eelam Peoples Revolutionary Liberation

Front, was the first female pooraali to die in battle in Feb

1985.

Sea Tiger women wearing shorts and swimming was breaking

the taboo of the time.

Angkayatkanni was a female Black Sea Tiger who died in

action.

***

52

They feared no one. They lacked frontline battle experience.

But they were not concerned because they were inspired by the

liberation struggle. They laid out the trap at Kopaay.

The Indian Peace Keeping Force had started to move out from

Jaffna city. Unable to believe what is going on, the people had

locked their doors and stayed indoors. A team of women

pooraalis including 2nd

Lt Malathi, Kasthuri, Thaya, Viji and a

few others were readying for a counteroffensive in Kopaay.

It was the October rainy season but the stars still shone in the

sky. The moon was floating straight above. The vehicles turned

into Kopay with their blinding headlights. The one at the

security post stood up to identify the vehicle. The vehicle

stopped and Indian military jumped out. Shouting like a

hundred howling jackals they ran towards the female pooraali

team. Gunfire welcomed the Indian military. A battle ensued

breaking the silence of the night. The Indian military for the

very first time in their history, battled an all women unit. The

battle was intense. It was destroying all the imagined ideas on

women held by the Indian military.

Malathi was injured in her thigh. She handed her gun to Viji

and said, “Give this to our leader. I am going to bite the

cyanide.” Viji was not prepared to leave Malathi. She tried to

drag her away. But Malathi’s will prevailed. She demanded

again, “Give this to our leader.” Her words was influenced by

the knowledge of the leader’s effort to provide all of them with

M16 weapons. It was a rare weapon loved by all the women

53

pooraalis. She knew the task waiting for it in the battle against

the fourth largest power in the world.

***

Those gathered in front of the house for “the-conference”

found it difficult to believe.

“Do you think these women would have really shot at the

Indian military?”

Though they had already heard of the Adampan battle where

women had taken an active role, the battle in which Lt. Col.

Victor was killed, those at the “the-conference” were still not

ready to believe it. With the above question the conference was

launched.

Time: 1993

Venue: Pointpedro harbour area

Viewers: Those attending “the-conference”

Actors: Heads in the sea of some people swimming.

They were wearing pants. “Are they men?”

But they had buns of hair on the head, “Are they women? But

wearing pants?”

“The sea is going surge seeing this anarchy?”

54

“In that case, shouldn’t the white-man’s sea also surge?” asked

another.

“Their sea is shameless but not ours”, came another voice.

While this fiery debate was going on in “the-conference”, the

women sea tiger unit had just started their sea operation, after

completing the four kilometres swim. But “the-conference”

was not finished.

***

The sea tiger boats raced in the Kilali strait challenging the

Lankan Navy which was killing at will, the civilians who were

using the strait. A female sea tiger team, under the command of

Lt Col. Bama, was also on duty in the Kilali strait. Their boats

sped back and forth in that strait threatening the enemy boats

and stopping it from approaching the civilian boats.

The participants of “the-conference” were now among the

civilians crossing the Kilali strait without fear of attacks by the

Lankan Navy. The Kilali strait could not stop laughing at the

sight.

***

An important southern town in Jaffna, Chavakachcheri, was in

our possession. Sri Lankan military was trying hard to

recapture it. Between the huge Sri Lankan military stationed

there and a limited number of us there was intense clashes.

55

Among the forest of buildings, the two sides clashed. Each of

our security post announced its situation as it battled on.

“One person injured among us.”

“Two were killed.”

“I am injured.”

“…”

“…”

Most of our security positions had fallen. They were still

bringing down enemies even as they fell. One security post

resisted without falling into the enemy hand. From that post a

counteroffensive continued against the enemy. Major Kayalvili

was in that position.

Kayalvili had not yet been surrounded by the military. One

route to our area of control was still in our hands. Kayalvili

refused to follow the order to retreat along that route and

regroup and then move forward to take back the positions lost.

She stood by her team’s request not to let Chavakachcheri fall.

“I will not retreat. Send the team along that route to my

position. We will retake from here. If I leave this place it will

be difficult to retake.”

Kayalvili knew that it will take time for the teams to arrive

from Ariyaalai, Vaatharavaththai, and Columbuthurai. Kayavili

56

and those with her had decided to resist enemy advance,

however long it takes.

Now the military had surrounded them.

“We are inside a roundup. We will manage. Send the teams.”

The heads of the military could now be seen over the fence

wall of the house where they were.

“We are shooting at those at the fence wall. Send the team.”.

The military jumped the wall and climbed down into the trench

dug between the fence wall and Kayalvili’s position.

“They have come near. We are shooting.”.

Everyone could here through Kayavili’s walkie the PKLMG of

the military hitting the wall of Kayalvili’s security post. The

cry of a soldier in Sinhala, who was hit by a grenade they had

thrown could also be heard through the walkie. Everyone

understood the situation of Kayalvili and her team. The last

words of Kayalvili standing unmoved in her determination not

to let Chavakachcheri fall,

“He has come very close. You would have no contact with us

now.”

The breeze paid its homage.

***

57

Her father could not believe what he was hearing. “Is my

daughter dead already? She joined only recently. How could

she be a Major already?” His daughter’s body was not there for

him to cry over. Those who knew his daughter came and

described her feats at the battle.

“My daughter? My daughter?” It was not just him who had the

questions. All “the–conference” participants had the same

questions. They thought they understood but then they felt they

didn’t. They had started to realise that there were happenings in

their land that were beyond questions and answers. When did

these events started to happen? Was it since Angkayatkanni’s

time? Capt. Angkayatkanni’s mother once she was exhausted

with crying began expressing her utter astonishment.

“Did she go in the 45 feet deep sea all by herself. It will be

dark under that water? How did she go? When she was here

with me, even to go outside at night I had to go with her.

She…how…?”

***

“The-conference” participants who were earlier surprised had

now reached a natural state of mind.

Suddenly the father of the house heard noises coming from

inside the house. The sound of a stick beating on the floor. He

stood up shocked. Is that little boy trying to kill some small

insect? The older girl who was studying is going to be

58

frightened. He ran inside and let out a cry of fear at what he

saw. His daughter was carrying a half dead snake on a stick.

“Bring some kerosene. Let us burn this.”

59

Paakkiam amma

by Kasthoori (“Idam maariya thuppaakkikalaal…” in

“Kasthooriyin Aakkangkal”, LTTE Publication Division, 1992)

Translator’s note:

This true story is set during the time when Indian forces were

stationed in the Tamil homeland. Paakiam is from Jaffna.

Paakiam’s three children later joined the Tamil Tigers and all

three became maaveerar in battles.

A word “Thalaiyaaddi” is used in this story. In Tamil it means

one who nods his head. In common usage during the time of

the armed struggle it referred to hooded Tamil informers used

by the Lankan and Indian Military to pick out the Tamil Tiger

members and supporters from a line-up by nodding their head.

The purpose of the hooded mask was to protect the informer

from Tamil Tiger assassination.

***

Paakkiam was drawing water from the well. She did not hear

her son calling out to her. The barking of the dogs was

drowning his voice. “Someone must have escaped from the

military camp. Otherwise they would not be out so early in the

morning” thought Paakiam. Prayers for the safety of the

escapee ran through her mind. Her thoughts ran over another

recent incident when the military got out early like this.

60

That day the military got out looking for a young man in her

neighbourhood. They went on to arrest people, from the streets

and from their homes. They even arrested those who were fast

asleep. They made them all sit under the large Tamarind tree in

an empty land nearby. Around 11.00am they were all paraded

in front of the “Thalayaaddi”. When the young men paraded

with their heads down, the military shouted ordering them to

look up. The parading young men looked pathetically at the

“Thalayaddi” fearing that “Thalayaddi” may otherwise become

angry. Indeed the fate of many young men are today re-written

by these “Thalaiyaaddi”. Brave they may be but when parading

in front of the “Thlaiyaadi” they turn white with fear.

Paakkiam picked up the water pot that she had just filled with

water from the well. The hens from next door came cackling,

crashing into her yard. Paakiam’s heart filled with sadness at

these Indian soldiers who had come all the way to chase hens

for their dinner. She was about to enter her kitchen…she

paused and put down her water pot and walked around to the

front of her house. Suddenly…she had to press herself hard

against the wall to save her from an unexpected attack. The

large cow from next door ran through her fence on seeing the

military with guns. It was about to crash into her but she

managed to avoid it. The big cow with its big eyes looked at

her for sympathy. It appeared to fear greater danger to itself

than the dangers faced by the humans at the hands of the

military. She went to open the gate to let the cow out but in its

state of fear the cow ran to the gate knocking her down as it

went.

61

Cursing the cow she looked up and saw the reason for the

cow’s fright. A military man with gun in one hand and a hen in

the other walked towards her with a foolish smile. With

palpitating heart she turned to look at her house and froze. Two

military men were walking out of her house with her eldest son

in front. Her heart razing she prayed, “ Oh God, were they

inside all this time…what could they have found …”. She tried

to remember what was on the table and other things around the

house. She feared that something left behind somewhere would

bring troubles for her.

The “boys” came last night around 1.00pm…with their flyers,

newspaper cuttings, books, and many more…. from the manner

in which they were carrying the bundle she could figure that it

was heavy. She did not ask questions though it posed danger to

her. At her home many nights were spent like this with these

boys. This time she knew beforehand that they were coming

and she had already made food for them. She made “idli” (a

sort of bread made by steaming thick watery mix made of rice

and urid dhal). She does not make idli often these days. When

her husband was living with her she had to make whatever he

demanded, whether she liked it or not. He would come home

drunk and start demanding and beating her. Then her heart

would cry silently for the effect it would have on her children.

Her husband would come to know whenever she leaves home

or whenever people visit her. He used these excuses to leave

her. Paakiam lived in peace after her husband had left her. She

found great satisfaction making idli for these boys who would

otherwise be eating just bread or rotti and sleep under the sky

in open plots.

62

When the boys left after finishing the job it was 3.00am. They

were careful to remove all the items. She helped too to clear

the place of all pieces. Yet, the presence of the military was

making her nervous. Nothing happened as she feared. Her three

children came running to her. One military man pointed to the

children and asked whether they were her children. Saying

something to the fellow military man in a language she did not

understand, they all laughed and left.

Days past. Each day brought more sad events. There was no

change in the firing of shells as if it was according to some

time schedule. People being killed in these shelling became a

common event. What happened in the Jaffna hospital and the

Chavakachcheri market were indeed great tragedies with many

lives lost. But what about the many tragedies taking place in

the smaller towns and villages.

It appears that the contemporary world order is to wage war to

bring peace. It has become their policy to kill to bring peace.

These days, there is no sign of people on the streets.

Everywhere there is military snooping among bones and skulls.

Like gods they pervade every nook and corner. People had

forgotten the habit of eating three meals a day. Shops do not

stock items. When stocks do come the prices are exorbitant.

The rich is able to use their hoarded money but the poor are

forced to shrink their stomachs and remain starved. Among

such tragedies and dangers, these good hearted young people

are waging a struggle for their country. Paakiam’s heart cried

for these young souls.

63

Anzar had told her that he will come to collect the food parcels

at lunch time. She had started cooking earlier. In earlier days

there were many in the village who were ready to give food

and lend a helping hand to these young souls. How many of

them used the commemoration meetings and stages organized

by the young people to show off their status and colors.

Paakiam came out on hearing the barking dogs. Anzar had

come to collect the food. He had lost weight and he looked

wasted. He also has parents and brothers and sisters. He could

have stayed with his family and lived comfortably…. Then

why has he left all life and is leading this life – foodless,

sleepless and ever in danger of death. She served food for

Anzar and began parcelling the food for Anzar to take away.

While she was making the food parcels she thought of the

others like Anzar hungry and living in the open space.

“No one lets these boys into their houses now. Then why on

earth are you giving them food? Do you know what happened

to those who gave food?” A relative reprimanded Paakiam one

day.

“Do not think about the problems in the country and what you

can do to help? But only research about who came to take food

parcels in the neighbourhood.” this is how Paakiam wanted to

respond but she controlled herself and responded with a smile,

“I am not giving food anymore. When they go past, the

familiar faces, what can you do? Can I run and hide? I just

offer a cup of tea and manage. That is all.”

64

If that same woman sees Anzar here she might even go and

inform the military thought Paakiam. Desperately hoping that

the food parcels should reach those young men she packed the

parcels in a box. Suddenly the noise of barking dogs were

heard. Paakiam’s heart raced fearing that the military is

coming. She came out to look on the lane. One military man

was looking over the fence into her yard. As soon as he saw

her, he shouted loud. Another shorter man looked at her from

below the gate. She understood the situation she was in. Her

thoughts were about Anzar getting caught. He cannot get out of

the yard. The military was standing all around. None of the

military has yet entered her yard.

For a moment she thought that they may have come for

something else. Still she decided to tell Anzar to jump the

fence near the well where he will jump into the tall manioc

plants which will give some hiding space to escape. Thinking

these thoughts she went to the back to see if there were any

military there. Anzar was there too ready to run. They both did

not see the military men in the back yard.

“Run my child, there are no military in the back” saying this

she ran into the kitchen without waiting to see if Anzar had

safely escaped. In the kitchen she dumped all the food in the

parcels under the fire place used for cooking and covered it

with the firewood that was there.

She heard the guns. Anzar was not carrying a gun. She ran

towards the well and there….Anzar was on the ground

bleeding profusely. He was still alive. Paakiam’s heart cried

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out, “My child.. you are dying what am I to do?” Anzar

slowly died right in front of her eyes.

“Anzar will not come asking for food. These young souls that

wanted freedom… is this how they must die along the fences

and in the streets” she forgot the danger she was in and cried

out loud. The military that waited for just such a moment

surrounded her and pushed her with vengeance. She fell hitting

her head. Blood from the cracked head ran down her cheeks.

Her children who were frozen until then now began to scream

seeing their mother’s condition.

One of the military men outraged at the crying children

approached them yelling in an unknown language. He began

beating the children with a stick till it broke into two pieces. He

then kicked the eldest son with his boots. The youngest that

had never seen such sights ran to the mother. Unable to console

her child with an embrace, because the military had tied her

hands at the back, Paakiam mumbled something to the child.

Tears ran down her cheek and her child put its arms around her

neck crying and showed the places where he had been beaten.

Her heart broken to pieces, with trembling lips she kissed her

child. She signalled with her head to her eldest to come near

her. He was unable to stand up. He too was crying

inconsolably. Paakiam’s mother, the children’s grandmother,

who could have consoled the children was away at that time.

The military ignoring all of this dragged away the child from

Paakiam and pushed her into the jeep as her children screamed.

The thought that she may not see her children again crushed

66

Paakiam. Are they going to be orphans? The jeep drove away

and her children disappeared from her sight. Paakiam tried to

calm herself. “How many Tamil children have been made

orphans. So, my children will also join them. As long as we

live as slaves, this country will be filled with refugees and

orphans. One day there will be freedom and my children will

live free in that free land. Let them be orphans until then.”

Ignoring the torments of the military, she readied her mind to

face the terror she will soon be put through. Jeep kept going.

The days became weeks…months. The villagers were heard

saying things such as these.

“How many times have I told her. One must listen to the advice

of those in the know. If one tries to act as they please, this will

be the fate.”

“You know that the military is taking away those giving food

to the boys…Now she is there.. who is to look after her

children…?”

“That old grandma, it is so pathetic.”

“Why should the old woman be put through this in that age.

She has to carry the burden of three children.”

Then villagers gradually stopped talking about Paakiam. Those

who visited to show sympathy also reduced their visits.

67

The military visited the children and left only after beating

them. The children missed their mother’s embrace during the

shelling and gun fire. Paakiam’s relatives and community

leaders tried their best to get Paakiam released. Sometimes

Paakiam’s mother would take the children to see her. The

children would be overjoyed to see her and cry when parting.

The youngest would refuse to leave.

Paakiam would plead with her mother, “Amma you may be

angry with me… but the children are too young. Even if they

make mistakes do not beat them. If you also beat them where

can they go?”

Everyday Paakiam’s children will talk at home about their

mother. They cry talking about the day when their mother was

taken away. Yet, they had learnt to manage without their

mother. Unexpectedly Paakiam was released and she arrived

home one day. Seeing the sight of the joyous reunion of the

mother and the children, tears ran down the grandmother’s

face.

Paakiam experienced and had seen too much of the torture by

the military. More than her own torture, it was what was done

to the young men and their screams that affected her most. She

had seen young men hung upside down and beaten, blood

running down from their cracked skull, but the beating

continued till they fainted. She would hear the screams of those

being beaten in the middle of the night. The screams will get

less and less as those beaten become weaker. Paakiam would

68

sit up crying and listening to the screams and she prayed that

the young men would die.

After her release Paakiam was not prepared to forget about the

young men and mind just her own business. She continued to

secretly help them including preparing food parcels for them.

When her mother reprimanded her she would say, “Why

should I not do what I think is for the freedom of my country?

Can I give up my duty because of fear of death and danger?”

This despite the fact that traitors were watching her day and

night as if they will get her punished even if the military is

willing to ignore her activities. Paakiam had gone to the

meetings organized by these enemies of the community and

questioned them about their killings and indiscipline. Unable to

justify their actions they had made Paakiam their enemy. These

same enemies of the community are now going around killing

supporters and members of the movement. Anything could

happen to her anytime. Her mother and her relatives tried to

make her leave and go overseas. Her response, “Why should I

run away fearing these traitors who had sold my country?”. Her

mother held back her sorrow realising that she cannot change

Paakiam.

It would be around 9.00am in the morning. Paakiam was not

home. She had taken her youngest and gone out. Taking her

youngest with her wherever she went was a technique she used

to avoid the harassment by the military. A vehicle arrived at

her home. Her eldest who was collecting some leaves to feed

the goats came running to the front. A van was parked outside

69

their gate. Armed young men pushed the gate open and came

inside. One of them held Paakiam’s eldest and demanded to

know the whereabouts of his mother. The boy shook in fear

when he said his mother had gone out. The young man slapped

the boy on the face and again demanded. “Ammaa had gone to

the hospital” said the boy. He was instructed by his mother to

say that when people ask about her whereabouts. “When would

she be back?” demanded the young man. The boy, “She did not

say when she will be back.” The young man raised his hands

again to hit the boy when the boy said “She would be back by

noon.”

Those who had come in the van discussed something among

themselves. Not satisfied with the answer given by the boy, one

of the young men went inside and came back. The four of them

then left.

Paakiam’s mother who had also gone to the shops came

running. “What is the matter thambi, whom are you looking

for..?” she asked the young men about to leave. One of the

young men came back and stared at her displaying his anger.

Then without saying anything he got into the van. The

confused old woman turned to her grandson who explained

what had happened. The old woman cried aloud.

When Paakiam arrived at noon, her mother crying loudly told

Paakiam what had happened. Her son also filled in crying all

the while. Paakiam realised the situation but trying to display

calm she embraced her son and tried to calm him too. “Do not

70

be afraid son. I will talk to them when they come” she said.

She went to the well to wash up.

The sound of a van arriving could be heard. The group must

have learnt of her arrival. They immediately surrounded the

house. Paakiam’s dog barked at them as if it was ready to

attack them. One of the men saw Paakiam at the well and

rushed there and held her hand. She shook him off angrily and

pushed him to the ground. The man on the ground shouted,

“Come here you all. The woman is here.”

Some of the neighbours looked over the fence. They must have

known the situation but no one had the courage to come into

her yard. Two of the young men who were inside the house

came running and held her. They tied her hands at the back.

She tried to free herself but their hold was too strong.

The one on the ground got up. Glaring at her he started

slapping her again and again till his anger was spent. Her

children screamed at the sight of their mother being beaten.

Paakiam’s mother came running and pleaded and begged not to

beat her. One man in the group, probably its leader ordered,

“What are you doing without dragging her away?” Then he

began dragging her to the van. Her children ran behind the

mother. Paakiam turned and looked at them… tears were

running down her face.

When they reached the van he ordered, “Get in.” She didn’t.

They forced her in. The van sped taking her away from her

mother and her children. The neighbours had not gathered.

71

Paakiam’s mother was rolling on the ground crying. Children

too cried pathetically.

The van turned into a lane and stopped. One of the men

ordered Paakiam to get down. She did not. He ordered again

and she looked at him with revulsion. One of the men then

pushed her off the van. The van door hit her hard but she did

not show the pain. “Why did you bring me?” she asked.

“Mm.. to shoot you.”

“That is what I am asking. Why?”

“Don’t act for us you dirty woman. Do you think we do not

know that you give food to the Tigers?”

“So what? What is wrong in helping those fighting for their

country?”

“Shut you woman. Don’t start talking about right and wrong.”

He dragged her and tied her to the fence.

She closed her eyes and she could only see her crying mother

and her crying children.

Then…

Two gun shots were heard across the village.

Paakiam’s mother standing at the gate of their house

understood. She beat her head and wailed “My daughter…”.

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Holding to their grandmothers’ saree those orphaned

children…

73

What price

by Malaimahal (“Vilai” in “Malaimahal Kathaikal” short

story collection, Capt Vaanathi Publication – LTTE Women’s

Division, 2004)

I couldn’t describe what was going through my mind. Was it

sadness? Was it pride? Something was churning inside me

since morning. My friend, Isaichelvi, she never failed to drop

by to see me at least once a week. She was always cracking

jokes and making us laugh. She was here this morning too and

she asked whether I remember? That question was the reason

for my state of mind. The question may seem ordinary to others

but to me…?

I controlled the tears that was threatening to pour out. I did not

want Kayalvili, reading in the next bed, see me crying. I will

not be able to tell her why I was crying.

Sitting alone outside under the periwinkle tree (a six feet tree

with abundance of small white flowers) seemed preferable to

sitting here. I called out to Vathani and asked her for the

wheelchair. When she came I transferred myself to the

wheelchair. I used to find this a demanding process for the

body as well as for the mind. Those days I would get up at

nights with a sudden shock that my body was missing below

the waist. I would touch my legs to make sure. Sometimes, I

used to be amazed at Thaarani, who was with us there, who had

lost all feelings below her neck. She would be singing

enthusiastically. Now I too have got used it.

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Kayavili did not move even when my wheelchair was making

noises as Vathani moved it towards the steps. She was reading

a popular Indian history book. Our leader recommended it to us

last time he visited us. She had managed to obtain a copy of the

book by asking each and everyone who visited her. She has not

taken her eyes off the book since. If only she would raise her

head I could ask her to come with me to the periwinkle tree. It

is always comforting to talk with her.

She was still reading despite the noise of the wheelchair going

down the steps. I decided not to disturb her. I told Vathani who

had helped me down the steps to go. I then moved my

wheelchair to the periwinkle tree.

The white flowery abundance on the tree moved for the wind

gently rubbing on each other . They appeared to be talking

secrets and laughing – like us. What else do they have to do

except laughing?

***

It was like this when the preparations were being made for the

Kilinochchi battle. We never stopped laughing even when last

minute hasty preparations were being made – dividing the

groups and moving them to positions. The weaponry section

was running around taking the details of the weapons and

supplying ammunition. The report writers were repeatedly

rechecking the details of the groups. Others were running

around asking whether everyone had their gunny bag hats and

their water cans. We continued talking secrets and laughing.

75

There were a thousand things for us to talk and laugh about.

We continued to talk and laugh despite the order from the

leaders to keep quiet. We talked and laughed as if we will not

get another time to talk and laugh like this, as if this was our

last chance to laugh. We laughed uncontrollably.

It is true that it was not our last chance to laugh. But it was our

last chance to laugh together. Among those of us who were

laughing that day only a few including Isaichelvi, Kayalvili and

I remain to carry those memories. It was this Isaichelvi who

came this morning and suddenly asked that question and left

soon after.

“ Hey Mayoori, can you remember the last position where you

were stationed during the Sathjeya military operation? Your

piece of real estate with the built-up-well was sold last week

for six lakhs.”

How can I forget? The poovarasu tree fence (Thespesia- a very

common tree used for putting live tree fences), the paddy field,

the built-up-well…. Everyone who came to the well to take

water would pause at my position for ten minutes to chat and

laugh. They would also demand tea and finish my one month

sugar ration in ten days. My security post was nick named

“Mayoori tea café”. How can I forget?

I am unable to pull myself out from those memories.

***

76

I can recollect those events clearly. Suruthi’s RPG position was

close to the A9 road. On her right was the built-up-well.

Straight ahead was my position. Since that morning artillery

rain never stopped. We realized that the “big brother” was

planning to make a move and we too got ready. The noise of

spy-planes filled the ears and Suruthi shouted above it,

“There is going to be such a big fight today. Let them come. I

will break the skull of each and everyone.”

The artillery rain was now falling past us which means the “big

brother” is coming closer. The noise of the tanks could be

heard not only from the A9 road but also from the paddy fields.

We readied ourselves for an expansive battle. Suruthi loaded

the shells and was tuning her ears to the noise of the tanks. Our

guns had nothing to do. What could they do when no one got

off the tanks? It appeared as if Suruthi had seen a tank. She

waved to me and aligned herself against the poovarasu fence

ready for firing. AH.. now I can see a tank too. Before I could

blink, the rotating top of the tank flew in the air. Before I could

see what Suruthi was doing next, her assistant was loading the

next shell. With the second firing the entire tank flew in the air.

Smoke was everywhere. Suruthi tiptoed to look at me and then

holding up her launcher jumped once. Before her feet touched

the ground, the whizzing sound of a shell came towards us. I

fell face down to the ground. Two shells exploded, as if it was

just above my head, tearing my ear drums. Blocks of soil and

tree branches fell covering me. I raised my head to look. The

poovarasu tree where Suruthi was leaning was missing. It was

dust all around.

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“Surutheeee” I yelled. I do not know if my voice actually came

out but there was no response. I could not see her assistant

either. Her assistant who was standing next to her was lying

flat on her face. She looked up at me in a state of shock. There

was no time to delay any further. I send one of my assistants to

Suruthi’s post to help Suruthi’s assistant. I cannot remember

much else, except that the rest of those with me and I started

fighting back.

Two or three days later I found a single jandal with the initial

SI. It was Suruthi’s and I had initialed it for her in white ink. It

stayed in my security post till we had to abandon the area to the

enemy.

***

I did not cry that day. Not sure if the heart had become too

frozen. Even the tears that threatened to pour out a while ago

had dried up. Yet, something kept disturbing me. Those days,

we were continually in battles, and all the memories might

have got pushed back way down. Now, restricted to wheelchair

and bed and with time on hand, are those memories coming to

the fore? How can one forget all those memories.

***

A week before that battle, an old man stood on the road

looking at that land. He was crying uncontrollably as if he had

lost all the meaning of his life. It was Suruthi who saw him

first. She was returning after hunting for some drumstick

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vegetable to make a curry. I heard her talking to someone and

ran to her position to find out what was going on.

Suruthi explained, “He started crying when I asked him why he

came here where a battle was going on.” I felt awkward. I had

not seen old men/fathers cry. Our father would come home

only for the weekends and other holidays. He will do all the

work at home and even help ammaa with her cooking. He will

draw water from the well for us to bathe. In the evening he will

wear freshly washed sarong and shirt and go for a walk along

the beach. He will eat with us at dinner time. He will talk a lot.

But I have never seen him crying.

When I saw the old man cry, I thought of my father. I felt

miserable. He had covered his mouth with the towel on his

shoulder and as he cried his body shook. Tears ran down his

face. He looked older than my father. His children would also

be much older than us. This land must be his. But would his

children not look after him? I was wondering when one of girls

came with a cup of tea and said,

“Do drink this iya(respectable reference to men) . You would

have come from afar”. He took the cup with both his hands and

drank the tea. He wiped his face and he looked a little relaxed

now. With a big sigh he started talking.

“I have seven daughters. Six of them are settled. My eldest is

still at home. She is 32 years old. Her horoscope is hard to find

a match. No matches could be found till now. I am a farmer

with a lot of land in Paranthan and here. I brought up all my

79

children well. I have divided all my land to the children. This

land and the mill is for my eldest. Just recently we have found

a match for her. The groom’s family is poor. They agreed

because of this land and the mill.

Now the land is gone, the mill is gone and my daughter’s life is

also gone. I just felt like having one last look at the land and

the mill. I came without even knowing whether it is with you

or the army. I came not caring even if the army shot me. What

is the point in my living when I cannot do anything for my

child?”

The old man stood up ready to leave. Suruthi asked him for the

location of the mill. Old man pointed to the area where the

army was stationed.

“I will take leave now children. Bless you.” said the old man

and pushed his bicycle looking tired. Suruthi ran after him,

“Army will be shelling. You must go fast.” He climbed on his

bicycle and rode away. Suruthi came running back.

“ Is there no man in this country to marry a woman without a

land and a mill” asked Suruthi.

“Isn’t that why that iya is crying” I said.

Suruthi nodded her head and continued, “I have two older

brothers. I am going to write to them and say they must forget

that they have a sister if they intend to take dowry in

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marriage.” I could not decode the expression on her face. Was

it anger or pain? Or was it a combination of the two emotions?

We did not cook the drumsticks that day. The whole day we

talked about that old man, his daughters and the life they would

have lead. In the meantime Suruthi wrote those promised

letters to her brothers and gave to someone, who went away for

some outside work, to be posted.

“From today this is our land. It is our responsibility to protect

this until we hand this over to that iya and his daughter. We

should not let this fall into army’s hand. Even if it does we

must recapture it”, Suruthi said as if she was taking oath.

This story became known to most of us who were at that

frontline. Everyone started to call us the landowners of the land

with the built-up-well. Is that land going for sale only now?

***

When we recaptured Kilinochchi in 1998, that land and mill

were also recovered. Only last year, after completing the

demining, those lands were handed over to the owners. If the

iya’s daughter was 32 years old in 1996, she would be 38 years

old now. If that land is going for sale now, is she going to get

married only now? Or did that same man marry her without the

dowry and are they putting it for sale now? My thoughts ran

wild.

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Suruthi who had said, “We should not let the land go and even

if we did we should recapture it”, gave her life as price for

protecting that land. Kayalvili and I lost movements in half our

body; some lost their limbs, and few more gave their lives. We

had given a lot.

I have not met many of those faces that became familiar during

those days. Who among them are still alive? In which division

are they now working? If we could all suddenly meet again?

I longed to talk to Kayalvili about all this. I must talk to her

immediately. I must recover all those memories with her. I

called to Vathani and began moving the wheelchair towards the

entrance to the house.

82

Search for the Tiger’s tail

by Malaimahal (“Puli Vaalai Theedi” in the short story

collection “Vali”)

Translator’s note

The Indian government had been involved in a long series of

tactics to destroy the Tigers. To this end it had supported the

other Tamil Eelam armed movements. This interference

worsened the armed confrontations between the Tamil Eelam

armed groups. From 1987 till 1990 was the time of direct

involvement of the Indian government in the Tamil Eelam

matters. A 40,000 strong Indian force was brought to Tamil

Eelam. Tigers ended up fighting this Indian force. In the one

and only united action of the Lankan government and the

Tigers, the Indian forces were ordered to leave the island in

1990.

This story is set during those years when the Indian forces

were stationed in Tamil Eelam. The story captures the

impossibility of fighting an armed rebellion that has the

support of the people except of course through a genocidal war

as it happened in May 2009. This story also captures the

uncivilised conduct of the Indian forces, a common experience

of people whose land is occupied by forces that is seen by the

people as its enemy.

83

This story has one thread that is set in a day in February 1989.

The author also traverses other times and these are italized for

easy comprehension.

***

Waiting to sit the first public examination at the age of sixteen

generated a flood of anxiety and excitement. It was good that

there was no disturbing announcement in the 6.00am radio

news. Yet, it would not be unusual if there was a sudden

loudspeaker announcement that a curfew had been imposed.

***

That was what happened in 1988 December. That year too, I

had put on my white school uniform ready to sit the same

exam. My mind filled with dreams of expectations of a new

phase in my life. I was also gratified that the examination

centre was my own school. Familiar environment relieved the

anxiety.

6.00am news said, “The examinations are starting today

throughout the country”. But as I was putting on my shoes the

news reader was reading something.

“From today until further announcement a curfew will be in

place”.

84

If so, the exams? We waited near the radio for the 12.45pm

news.

“Since the Indian forces have announced a curfew in the Jaffna

district, no examinations were held there. Examinations will

continue in the other districts”, said that news.

This Indian forces have come to destroy us. The same thing

happened even in 1987 to our senior batch. They announced a

curfew during the examination time. The day after the curfew

was lifted, all the students from Vadamaradchi (the northern

part of the Jaffna peninsula) put on our uniforms and sat in

front of the Indian military camp near Manthihai junction,

blocking the camp. We did not allow any of the military to

enter or leave the camp. In front of us inside the camp and

behind us outside the camp, jeeps and trucks were revving up

the engines threatening us. We stayed put silently daring them

to run over us. The Indian military leader who claimed that he

was in charge of the Vadamaradchi area gave assurance to our

school principals that he will make arrangements for the exams

to be held. It was only after that we returned home.

Their exams was held in 1988 April.

***

Our exams which should have been held in 1988 December

was about to be held now February 1989. It was the result of

hard work of the our principals and our education officials. I

walked down the lane and started on the main road. School

85

friends nodded and walked past. There was no sign of the ones

who had grown the tail. I wondered where they would be

hiding.

These disgusting military, on the other hand, would be

squatting in the lower grounds just to see our legs exposed

below the knees. When we are cycling, it is common for our

uniform to flutter in the wind. They will wait from very early

morning just to see that sight. To protect us from these

uncivilised brutes we started to wear socks above our knees.

***

One windy season at 5.45am, my friend and I were going on

our bicycles for a 6.00am tuition class. My friend had sensed

something. She has a good nose. She said, “I can smell their

peanut oil. Wait and see what will happen if the brutes dare to

try to talk”.

I couldn’t see those dogs as far as my eyes could see. We held

down our dresses with one hand as we rode. Suddenly there

was noise from the side of the road. My friend threw the pair of

old jandals she had ready in her bicycle basket. She let go of

words that cannot be written down. I did not see them hiding

under the bridge. My friends eye sight is also sharp I thought.

***

I was thinking of those events past as I walked to school. I

wrote my social studies paper and was returning home.

86

Military was everywhere as I walked back. That is the norm.

During school starting time and finishing time they come out to

look at us. They will go on their rounds just to rub against us.

But today seemed more than the usual number.

I wondered if they are about to declare a curfew just to

interrupt the examinations. I turned my bicycle from the main

road into our lane. The lane was filled with military. No one

else was to be seen. The military was concentrated in the house

next door to ours. That house used to be one of the first-aid

centres of “Suthanthira paravaikal” a female un-armed section

of the Tigers. It was also used as a library. Now only Kanthi

aachchi, an old single woman, was there. I felt sorry for Kanthi

aachchi. She had to listen to these brutes questions and

demands.

One of them stopped me by clapping his hands. I pointed to my

house and said I am going home. I went to my front door and

knocked two or three times. No answer.

“Ammaa”, as soon as I called the door opened and ammaa

dragged me inside and locked the door.

“Why did you come at this time? You could have stayed

somewhere else.” ammaa reprimanded.

“Ammaa, how would I know when they would be doing their

roundup? They also did not stop me so I came. Why are they

here?”

87

“They searched in Kanthi aachchi’s house for Tiger things.

Apparently they did not find it there. So they came and asked

me. I said I know nothing and went on to cook in the kitchen.

They left,” said ammaa.

Tigers must have brought something last night. The military

would not have come otherwise. When we sleep at night, from

our home we can sense the boats coming ashore, the boat’s

engine stopping, and the noise of people walking carrying

heavy things. But last night I did not sleep in our house

because of a story that one of the military had tried to drag a

woman at night. Thus, for safety, a few of the women slept

together in a different house in the company of older people.

“They think they can find the Tigers things. I like to see that.”

Ammaa’s grumbling confirmed my doubts. Ammaa slept in

our house and did not come with me to sleep in the other

house. Ammaa would know. She might even know the place

where it was hidden. But she will not open her mouth about it.

Sometimes ammaa behaves like a top level diplomat or an

experienced intelligence officer. I would have difficulties

figuring out what she was up to.

***

Once in 1984, Sri Lanka military suddenly entered our house

and turned it inside out looking for something. Ammaa sat

unmoved and let them do what they pleased. They found

nothing. After they had left Kutti mamaa jumped over the fence

88

Into public space

The political struggle of the Eelam Tamils began even before

the end of colonialism in 1948. Over the following decades,

this struggle gradually unified the Eelam Tamils who were

fragmented until then. There is no evidence that women took

part in this struggle until after the 1970’s.

Another struggle took centre stage in the Tamil homeland

during the 1960’s spearheaded by the Community Party. This

struggle against “untouchability” peaked in 1967 in what is

known as the “October Revolution”. Obscured in the

documentation of this revolt is one report involving a woman.

In this incident a woman named Sellakili was apparently on the

search warrant of the police for throwing a grenade[1]. Could

she be the first armed militant Eelam Tamil woman in

contemporary times?

Parallel to the struggle against “untouchability”, the impetus

for an armed political struggle against the Sri Lankan

government had been building up, throughout the 60’s. The

introduction of the 1970 university entrance scheme which

required higher performance from areas with higher

educational facilities was the initial impetus for the Tamil

youth, in particular the Jaffna youth to seriously consider

armed struggle. These youths were the worst effected by this

scheme. They formed the Tamil Students Union (TSU) in

1970. The aim of this body was armed militancy. The young

Tamil women, even though they too were affected by this

university entrance scheme, did not have any active role in this

89

group that was espousing militant politics. This is an indication

of the conservative Jaffna society that promoted education and

work for the young women but maintained strict societal codes

that otherwise kept them in the private space.

The TSU proved to be an important body mainly because many

of the future male leaders of the various Tamil armed

movements started their militant activities in this body. Two

persons among them was Pon Sivakumaaran and Pirabaaharan.

Pon Sivakumaaran acted without a formal group and in 1974

became the first militant to take his own life by biting the

cyanide capsule to avoid being in the police custody. Two

young women, Valli and Atputham, who were friends of Pon

Sivakumaaran’s sister had joined him as assistants to his

militant acts. These two women appears to be the first Eelam

Tamil women to participate in the Tamil Eelam armed struggle

for independence. Thus as early as 1973 the spirit of armed

militancy had begun the process of crossing the gender

boundary in Tamil Eelam.

With the dissolution of the TSU of the 1970, a new group of

young men came together to form the Tamil Youth Union

(TYU) in 1973 also with the intention of armed militancy.

Pushparaaja a key player of this body had published its history

in his memoirs in 2006[2]. Uma Maheswaran who was to later

lead one of the five main armed groups was active in TYU but

operated mostly from Colombo. TYU had many female

members. Notable were Urmila, Pushparaaja’s sister

Pushparaani, Kalyani and several others noted in Pushparaaja’s

memoirs. Many in this group, including Pushparaja, were

90

disillusioned that this group was coming under too much

influence of the moderate leadership of the Tamil political

party, TULF. They left the TULF to form the more militant

Tamil Eelam Liberation Organization (TLO) in 1975.

According to Pushparaaja and also Pushparaani who also

published her own brief memoirs in 2012 women were active

in the TLO, though there is no documentation suggesting that

women in TLO handled arms.

Urmila, Sivakumaaran’s helpers, Pushparaani and several other

women who were involved with TLO can be considered the

pioneers of female participation in Eelam Tamil armed

militancy. Although none of them is known to have used arms

themselves. Within two years of its formation the TLO itself

was disbanded due to arrests and exile of its members.

The early 80’s saw the solidification many Tamil armed groups

including, Kuttimani’s group as Tamil Eelam Liberation

Organizatio (TELO), the formation of Peoples Liberation

Organization of Tamil Eelam (PLOTE) due to split in the

Tamil Tigers and the formation of the Eelam Peoples

Revolutionary Liberation Front (EPRLF) due to split in the

EROS. These are the five armed groups that dominated the

Tamil political scene during the 80’s. During this phase,

especially after the 1983 pogrom, young women began

enlisting in all five groups in substantial numbers. Tamil Tigers

was a late comer in enlisting women. Eventually their role in

Tamil Tigers grew. Besides the July 1983 outrage which

pushed many of the women into armed militancy, there were

91

many other push factors, the ongoing and pervasive Sri Lankan

military sexual violence was one of them.

The Tamil independence struggle, briefly outlined above,

provided many types of catalyst for social reconstruction. The

practice of caste system and the position of women in the

society saw the most noticeable changes. The struggle provided

different paths for the women to burst into the public sphere.

Paths that would have been hard to walk in the absence of the

atmosphere of an intense struggle. The women who came out

in the public space fell into two broad categories: by far the

largest section were those women who took part in the armed

struggle of the various groups. The other group of women

became disillusioned with the military focused struggle of the

Tamil Tigers and became anti-war campaigners.

By the time the IPKF, the very large contingent of Indian

military, landed in the Tamil homeland in 1987, the Tamil

Tigers were dominating the scene after having virtually

destroyed or absorbed the other groups. Women in the Tamil

Tigers had already taken part in combat roles and this

continued when the war started between the Tamil Tigers and

the IPKF. Sexual violence by the IPKF became rampant in the

Tamil homeland. These crimes by the IPKF became the

strongest push factor for women to join the Tamil Tigers in

even greater numbers. When the Indian military departed from

the homeland the vacuum was seized by the Tamil Tigers and

for the first time sufficient space became available for the state

building project. Women too, who had already entered the

public space, now had greater freedom to act in this public

92

space. Women could do things that they could not do before

and demonstrate their abilities in the public sphere. Drive

against the practice of dowry giving through law as well as

through theatre and the recruitment of large number of women

into the police force gave the emerging de-facto state a strongly

pro-woman character. In 1996, the Tamil Tigers were evicted

from Jaffna by the Sri Lankan military. The Tamil Tigers now

set up Kilinochchi as their administrative centre and continued

the de-facto state building project amid constant military

battles with the Sri Lankan military.

The women in this defacto-state: the Tamil Tiger women,

civilians employed by the Tamil Tigers, and self employed

women interacted closely in a manner that did not exist outside

Vanni. Through this close interaction they managed to create a

network to pick out the women who needed a helping hand. Be

it in the spheres of economic assistance, domestic violence,

child educational negligence or housing need, they were on the

lookout. There were established channels and institutions to

which they could turn in order to bring this to the attention of

those who can help. Because of these available mechanisms,

women did not hesitate to be watch-full and they did not turn

their face the other way as women must do in most parts of the

world. This culture more or less permeated the entire female

population. That was the unique feminism – elimination of

destitution through universal women’s action.

Sustaining this female culture was several Tamil Tiger

institutions of health, welfare, banking-development, police,

law and media. They all had more than fifty percent female

93

representation. Some of them were run solely by women, both

LTTE and civilian. The extensive and intensive women’s

network in Vanni drew even the poorest of women in, bringing

to them the awareness of the women’s work in the public

domain. It encouraged women to enter the work force as self

employed often in traditional areas such as small scale

retailing, farming and sewing but also into small boat fishing,

mechanics and driving. Though their ventures were small scale

their participation in large numbers promised greater things to

come.

[1] “இலங்கையில் சாதியமும் அதற்கைதிரான ப ாராட்டங்ைளும்”,

கெகுஜனன்-இராெணன், சவு த் ெிசன், தமிழ் நாடு, page 173

[2] “ஈழப்ப ாராட்டத்தில் எனது சாட்சியம்”, சி. புஸ் ராஜா, அகடயாளம்

கெளியடீு, தமிழ்நாடு

94

Stats

There is no recorded statistics of women who were active in

the armed struggle, except of those who were active in the

Tamil Tiger movement.

The extent of women’s role in the Tamil Tiger movement can

be gleaned from the official statistics of maaveerar, shown in

Table-3, published by the Tamil Tigers in Auguts 2008 less

than a year before they were destroyed . Table-2 is the

summary of the Black Tiger statistics published by the Tamil

Tigers. Table-1 summarises the data in Table-3 on a regional

basis together with the distribution of Eelam Tamil population

as per 1981 census.

This data reveals the follows points.

1. Women represented 20-30% of the Tamil Tiger

membership and this is proportionally represented in

the maaveerar statistiscs as well as in the black tiger

statistics.

2. 5-10% of Eelam Tamil women were members of the

Tamil Tiger movement.

3. On a per capita basis Vanni districts have given the

highest number to the struggle both among men and

women. Given that this is where the Tamil Tigers

fought its biggest battles this is not surprising.

4. The male maaverar from the eastern districts is

comparable to the Vanni districts. This is very

95

impressive given that the Tamil Tigers hardly

administered a region in Batti/Amp

5. The low participation of women from the eastern

regions is a surprise for many people. This may in fact

be because the Tamil Tigers did not fully administer a

region here.

6. Every women who was a member, that is 5-10% of

women, would have known another 10 or more women

in her life who was not a member. When viewed in this

manner it is possible to imagine the extent to which

women came under the influence of the Tamil Tiger

women.

96

97

Bibliography

This is a bibliography of all known published works by Eelam

Tamil women who had carried arms during the armed struggle

and the writings of Eelam Tamil women who had first-hand

experience living and working with the Tamil women who

were carrying arms[1]. A good collection of such past

publications have been archived at the padippakam and

noolaham archive sites. These are listed in eight different

categories below.

1. Works by Tamil Tiger Women

There is a vast collection of publication by both the Tamil

Tigers as well the Women’s Division of the Tamil Tigers that

contains writings of the Tamil Tiger women. Some of which

are:

1.1 “Suthanthira Paravaikal”, Women’s Division of the Tamil

Tigers. This is the foremost collection of publications that were

issued regularly that contains mainly the writings of the Tamil

Tiger women. Currently these issues appears to be unavailable.

1.2 “Naatru”, Women Research Centre of the Tamil Tigers – a

regular issue that also appears to be unavailable

1.3 “Veliccham”, Arts and Culture Division of the Tamil

Tigers – a regular issue.

98

1.4 “Erimalai”, International branch of the Tamil Tigers – a

regular issue.

1.5 “Vaanathiyin kavithaikal” – poetry collection, Vaanathy,

Publication Division – Tamil Tigers, 1991.

1.6 “Kasthooriyin Aakkankal” – writings, Kasthoori,

Publication Division – Tamil Tigers, 1992.

1.7 “Kaathoodu sollividu” – writings, Barathy, Publication

Division – Women’s Division of the Tamil Tigers, 1993.

1.8 “Eluthaatha un kavithai” – poetry collection by various

women, Capt. Vaanathi Publication – Women’s Division of the

Tamil Tigers, 2001

1.9 “Viluthaaki Veerumaaki” – history of 2nd

Lt Malathy

regiment, authours: A Kantha, S Puradchikaa and Malaimahal,

2nd

Lt Malathy Regiment publication, 2003.

1.10 “Malaimakal kathaikal”- short story collection,

Malaimakal, Capt. Vaanathi Publication – Women’s Division

of the Tamil Tigers, 2004.

1.11 “Meendum thulirkkum vasantham” – poetry collection,

Ampuli, Capt. Vaanathi Publication – Women’s Division of the

Tamil Tigers, 2004.

1.12 “Vali” – short story collection, Capt Vaanathi publications

– Tamil Tiger Women’s Division, 2005.

99

Another collection of poetry that has appeared in the various

Tamil Tiger publications was re-published by a Women’s

group, Oodaru, operating from among the diaspora Tamil

women.

1.13 “Peyaridaatha nadchaththirankal”, poetry collection by

various LTTE women, Oodaru-Vidiyal publication, 2011

1.14 “Pooraaliyin kaathali” – novella based on the pre-2009

period, Vettichchelvi, Cholan Padaippakam, Tamil Nadu, 2012

2. Adele Balasingam’s writings

Based of the qualification that this bibliography is of writings

by Tamil women, Adele Balasingam will not qualify.

However, she occupies a special place because her book on

LTTE women remains to date the only authentic writing in

English about LTTE women. This work, however, only

describes the military achievements of the LTTE women.

2.1 “Women Fighters of Liberation Tigers”, Adele

Balasingham, Tamil Tigers, 1993.

3. Work by women in other armed groups

No works by women in the other armed movements have been

identified so far.

4. Women’s Research Circle (WRC) based in Jaffna

University

100

4.1 “Sollaatha seithikal”, collection of poetry by many civilian

anti-war women, 1986.

4.2 Rajani Thinaragam who was a key member of the

Women’s Research Circle co-authored a book “Broken

Palmyra” with three other male authors during the IPKF

presence. In this work her name is not distinctly associated

with any of the content.

4.3 Regular issues of “Pen” continues to this day by Surya

Women’s Development Centre based in Colombo and

Batticaloa. Surya Development Centre was closely associated

with WRC until WRC became defunct during the late 1980’s

following the assassination of Rajini Thinaragama allegedly by

the Tamil Tigers.

5. 2009 experience

5.1 “Eelap poorin iruthi naatkal” – first-hand experience of

end-war, Vettichchselvi, Cholan Padaippakam, Tamil Nadu,

2012

5.2 “Oolikkaalam” – novel based on first-hand experience of

end-war, Thamilkavi, Thamilini Publishers, Tamil Nadu, 2013.

5.3 “A fleeting moment in my ..” – first-hand experience of last

years, N Malathy, Clarity Press, USA, 2012

5.4 “Enathu naatil oru thuli neeram” – the above in Tamil

translation, Vidiyal Publishers, Tamil Nadu, 2013.

101

5.5 “Aaripoona Kaayankalin Vali” – first hand experience of

Tamil Tiger women taken as POWs, Vetrichchelvi, Thavamani

Pathippakam, 2016.

6. Post 2009 publications of much earlier experience

6. 1 “Tamil Tigress” – Author’s experience of less than one

year (1987-88) membership in the Tamil Tiger movement,

Niromi de Souyza, Allen & Unwin, 2011. Though touted as

memoirs there is evidence that many of the sections in the book

are fictitious.

6.2 “Ahaalam” – 1970’s experience of activism and

torture, Pushparanee, Karuppu Pirathikal, 2013

6.3 “Oru Koor Vaalin Nilali” – Memoir of the ex-leader of the

Women’s Section of the Political Wing of the

LTTE, Thamilini, Kalachuvadu Pathippakam, 2016. Writing

this memoir living in Colombo, Thamilini’s narrative twisted

the truth according many others who were with her in many of

the incidents she describes.

7. Post 2009 experience of LTTE women

7.1 “Kaanaamal poonavanin manaivi” – short story collection,

Vettichchelvi, Cholan Padaippakam, 2012.

7.2 “Ummath”- novel based only on post-2009 experience with

Tamil Tiger women, Sarmila Seiyith, Kaalachuvadu

102

publishers, 2013. Authour does not describe any experience

with arms carrying women.

[1] A category of Tamil women based either in Colombo or in

the Diaspora with very limited exposure to the arms carrying

Tamil women have written articles/books about them. Some

among them are: Radhika Coomarasamy, Darini Rajasingam-

Senanayake, Nanthini Sornaraja, Ambika Satkunanathan and

Nimmi Gowrinathan.